


Erin's Isle

by CookieCrumbz545



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Changing With The Seasons, Does David Jacobs have a love interest?, F/M, Jack Kelly has big brother energy, Jackie and Davey, Matthew (mOC), Musicals, New York City 1899, Newsies (musical), Not-So-Platonic Jack and Katherine :), Platonic Jack & Crutchie, Platonic Jack & David, Santa Fe, Siobhan (fOC), Tenements, a couple lil OCs to spice things up, that's for me to know and you to find out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCrumbz545/pseuds/CookieCrumbz545
Summary: In the spring of 1899, a girl from the Scots-Irish tenements stuffs her braids into a newscap. In the summer, she is a witness to the newsboy strike that changed The World. In the fall, Jack Kelly and his boys enjoy an unfamiliar abundance of work, play, and pocket change. But winter brings sickness. Where can Jack turn when his friends' lives are at stake?(T rating for allusion to/themes of assault, miscarriage. Minor foul language, mostly-wholesome physical affection.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Spring, 1899

**Spring, 1899**

Jack blew a clump of hair out of his eye as he hoisted Crutchie down the last rung of the fire escape. He needed a trim soon. Usually Crutchie would’ve been able to get down the ladder just fine on his own, but he’d had to do a surprising amount of walking the previous day to sell the last of his papers, and his good ankle was a bit too numb to be reliable on the narrow metal rungs that were often slippery with morning dew. The boys congregated with the others who camped on the fire escapes and started on their way towards The World’s office building, grabbing tough hunks of dry toast from the nuns for breakfast as they passed the cathedral. There was minimal conversation, a lot of shouting ‘hello’s to familiar faces in the street and skipping around a bit in childlike submission to the early-morning jitters. The group collected a few other newsies as they walked, assimilating into the small throng of twenty-or-so boys gathered in the space behind the skyscraper that housed The New York World.

  
The headline that morning was “Spring Rains Cause Flood Damage in Business District”, which was less than exciting, but relevant enough for any lower- or middle-class person to care enough to spend a penny. While the factories got off easy, lots of the smaller businesses had suffered from flooded cellars due to poor drainage, and two butchers and all of the florists had been hit the worst. Jack stretched his arms as he waited in line to purchase the day’s papers, working up a little spiel in his head that would sell the headline better.

  
Some new face had managed to duck in line in front of him. Jack couldn’t tell if he was actually quite so short, or if it was just because the kid was hunched over in attempt to look small. The nervous, invisible kind weren’t hard to find in the streets of New York City, and Jack found them a tad more tolerable than new boys who were too loud and confident for their own good. The boy seemed to want to be ignored, and so Jack ignored him, digging a pair of quarters out of his pocket. The kid in front of him slapped down thirty-five cents on Wiesel’s coin box, collected a stack of seventy newspapers, and slid them into the sling over his shoulder, shuffling away.

  
Jack stared after the boy with a critical eye as he purchased his own hundred papers. The new kid could barely carry seventy papers in such a small bag, much less sell them all in a day. Crutchie caught Jack’s eye, having noticed the strange sight as well, and the two followed the crouched boy a few steps. The scene swiftly snagged the attention of Racetrack and Romeo, who crept over to see what was going on.

  
“Hey, Dumpy,” shouted Race. The boy hesitated a moment and glanced up, unsure of who was being addressed.

  
“Yeah, he’s talkin’a you.” Jack strode up to the boy. “What’s a newbie like you doin’, buyin’ up so many papes? You know they won’t buy back the ones you can’t sell, right?”

  
The new face made no response, either out of choice or out of an inability to move that came from fear. Not that the other boys were being explicitly intimidating or threatening; they were just curious, really. Jack scrutinized the boy’s face a bit closer. Something about him seemed off.

  
“Hold up a minute.” The tall brunet snatched at the brim of the newcomer’s newscap. “You ain’t no newsboy.”

  
The kid clawed for the hat like a cat for a ball of yarn, but the attempt was in vain. With a tug, the cap came off and two straw-colored braids dropped out from under it. The other boys clamored.

  
“What’s this miss doin’ mooching offa our papes?” cried Romeo incredulously.

Yeah, you should be in the shirtwaist factory with the other working girls,” said Crutchie. The girl stretched up on her toes as she unsuccessfully tried to grab her hat back from Jack.

  
“I’d like to see you boys try your luck at that factory. It’s longer, harder work for far less pay. My cousin died from working in a factory like that too long.” She glared sourly, but the shaking in her arms as they hugged the bag of papers to her chest revealed that she was pretty well terrified of the street boys that towered over her, however well she masked it with words.

  
Jack rolled his eyes, tossing the hat back into the girl’s face. She spluttered as she fumbled to grab it. “Look, all the same, there’s plenty ‘a work for a little girl in this city, no need to barge in here and invite your factory friends to steal our jobs.”

  
“I’m not here to bring in other girls and take your papers,” insisted she. “My pa’s sick with somethin’ and he hasn’t been able to work the past couple of days. I just need to sell a few day’s worth of papers for grocery money. I promise I won’t stick around once he’s better, so please don’t tell anyone and just let me sell these.”

  
The other boys looked reluctant. Jack pursed his lips. “Where you from, girlie?”

  
“Scots-Irish tenement. The one near the fire escapes you newsies sleep on.”

  
“And what’s ya name?” prodded Race.

  
She hesitated with a frown, but replied, “Siobhan.”

  
Jack crossed his arms with a sigh. “Alright, Ireland. You can sell papes for three days, including this one, and no longer. Now put that hat back on and skedaddle before Weisel finds out he’s been lettin’ a girl buy papes.”

  
The girl nodded, yanked her cap back over her braids, and scurried off down the street all in the same breath. She slowed as she reached the corner, messily stuffing her hair back up into the hat. Jack shook his head. A kid could never catch a break. At least he was never bored selling papes, that was for sure.


	2. Summer, 1899

**Summer, 1899**

“What’s the paper doing takin’ a picture of you punks?”

Jack turned, breaking his pose and smile. Just out of range of the camera stood a freckled girl with two long blonde braids, one over each shoulder.

“Hay, it’s Ireland. What’s it–Siobhan? Whatta you doing here?” He strode toward her.

She gestured to Katherine and the photographer for the New York Sun. “Heard about the commotion down here. Is it true Mr. Pulitzer raised the price for papers?”

Jack nodded curtly. “Damn straight, he did. You got in and outta the business just in time.”

“Well.” She grinned. “If anyone can set ‘em straight, it’s everyone’s favorite big brother.”

He frowned good-naturedly. “I ain’t ya brother. ‘Sides, it’s this guy here who had the idea in the first place.” He captured the boy in question in a half-headlock, as he had walked up in curiosity of the conversation.

“Who’s this?” David scowled as he posed the question, struggling free of Jack’s grip. The other boy ruffled his hair antagonistically.

“Davey, meet Siobhan. Siobhan, Davey.” He gesticulated between the two. David rolled his eyes, then extended a hand in a gentlemanly manner.

“David Jacobs. Nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled, and shook it. “Siobhan Mackey. Pleasure to see someone has manners, eh, Big Brother?” She used her other arm to elbow Jack in the ribs. A newsie shouted his name from a few yards away, and Jack’s head snapped up.

“Jack.” Siobhan’s voice fell flat, a strange intonation. Was it fear? “How did they get here so fast?”

The minute seemed to slow as Jack’s eyes met Snyder’s. With a sharp shout that he couldn’t pinpoint, the scene snapped into action. There was no telling who was running away from and who into the circle of boys. Jack’s legs jolted in a sprint, grabbing David’s wrist to pull him along. He’d lost sight of Siobhan, but it didn’t cross his mind as his knuckles met the jaw of Oscar Delancey.

* * *

David turned away from Katherine at the sound of the door to Jacobi’s Deli opening. A girl shuffled in, a faded wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Long blonde hair was tied in a single, loose braid that hung over one shoulder. The boy squinted in recognition.

“Siobhan,” he said, striding toward her. She glanced up, and he noticed a deep shadow along her left cheekbone.

“What happened to you?” Katherine cried softly before David could get the words out, rushing over with a furrowed brow. “Did you get caught up with the boys when the strikebreakers arrived at the protest?”

“No,” the blonde began, sitting and shifting compliantly as Katherine turned her face side to side with a thumb against her jaw, studying her bruises. “I just booked it the second I recognized Snyder.” Siobhan turned to David, a touch of guilt in her face. “I heard Crutchie got carried off. I wanted to stick around and help, but David, I got a little sister an’ brother. If I get taken to the Refuge, my siblings don’t have clothes or soap––do you,” she swallowed. “and do you know what happens to girls in that place?”

David placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stop. You did what you thought was best, and there’s no changing anything.” Siobhan seemed to wince at the touch, and the hand pulled away quickly.

“You got away,” Specs piped up. The other boys had gathered around the table to listen. “So who messed up your face?”

The corner of her mouth curled in contempt. “Morris Delancey, who else. Saw me walking to the market for milk, and he cornered me in the alley by Fourteenth.”

“That’s awful,” commented Katherine with disgust.

“‘M sure he’s done worse to other girls.”

David watched as Specs handed a water-soaked rag to Katherine, who pressed it to Siobhan’s cheek.

“What do you mean?” he asked her, but trailed off as he noticed Specs shake his head vigorously. The question was covered up as Katherine began speaking again, meaningless words meant as comforting fodder as she fussed over Siobhan’s face, then arms, then torso. She shooed the boys away for a moment so she could lift the hem of Siobhan’s shirtwaist, but David, being tall, still caught a glimpse of blue and red splotches on the blonde girl’s prominent ribs.

* * *

Jack chuckled nervously as the conversation lulled, removing his newscap and drawing an arm across his forehead. It came away sweaty. He swallowed.

“With the strike settled, I should probably be hittin’ the road.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Big Brother, surely you didn’t get to thinking we’d let you ride off into the sunset just like that.”

“I don’t get it,” David chimed in. “What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas?” He splayed his fingers, then ran them up Jack’s arm in the likeness of a spider, punctuating the action with a none-too-gentle jab at his neck. Jack growled, hooking his arm under David’s chin playfully. A grin spread across his face, then wavered as David broke away, laughing. He would miss his new friend.

“Or, better yet,” Katherine spoke up, stepping closer to him. “what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?” She nudged his arm with her shoulder, head tilted just slightly to look up at him. Jack felt his face go hot, hoping his cheeks looked flushed enough already from the summer sun. Crutchie jumped in, offering a fortunate distraction.

“New York’s got us.” The blond boy’s trademark hopeful grin was shamelessly donned, and he glanced over each shoulder at David, Les, Siobhan, and the countless other newsboys gathered around them. “And we’re family. Ain’t we, Jack?”

“Besides.” Katherine’s hand had slipped into his without Jack’s noticing how, and he was sure that his face could be compared side-by-side with a tomato by this time. “You’ve still got one more ace up your sleeve.”

“Yeah?” He tried not to let his heart speak through his voice. “And what’s that, pray tell?”

“Me.” She smiled with half of her mouth, but her face quickly fell sincere. She grabbed Jack’s other hand in hers. “Wherever you go, I’m right there with you. No matter what.”

Jack meant to nod so as to avoid words, but somewhere between planning and execution, he pulled Katherine toward him by her hands and kissed her. A mixed chorus of whoops, cheers, and shouts from the newsies followed almost immediately. Katherine tucked her face into his shoulder, hugging him tightly, and Jack smiled so big his eyes crinkled shut. He knew by now that where he was standing had to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can expect each season to get increasingly longer; "Winter, 1899" will be split into multiple chapters. For better flow and more manageable reading, chapters will be kept to ~1,000 words, but may consist of multiple parts (much like this three-parter). Thank you for reading.


	3. Summer Excerpt I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up so fruitful that I was obliged to make it a two-parter; expect the next chapter within a week. As always, feedback in the comments is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading, and happy 2020.

David heard laughing as he and his brother climbed toward the top of the fire escape. A warm breeze passed by them, and something gold-colored floated down from the metal lattice above their heads and landed on Les’ sleeve. The boy pinched it between two fingers, squinting curiously. It was a tuft of hair.

“ - would hold still, you goose, you’ll ruin all my hard work.” They heard a playful chide, then giggling.

Les ran the rest of the way up, and David followed his little brother close behind. Jack, Crutchie, and Siobhan were lounging on the topmost platform, just a level or two above where the Mackeys lived. Crutchie was seated in a little wooden chair, a discarded newspaper folded under each leg to prevent it from slipping through the grating. Jack leaned leisurely against the rust-coated railing, smiling. Siobhan was standing behind Crutchie, a pair of scissors in one hand and a pinch of blond hair in the other. Her own twin braids were tossed safely behind her shoulders, dangling at the small of her back.

“Hey, Davey, you’re just in time.” Jack was the first to notice them. “Ireland’s got Crutchie lookin’ all freshly groomed.”

Siobhan closed the scissors with finality and dropped them into the pocket of her apron, tousling her friend’s newly sheared hair with both hands in order to separate the tiny, itchy trimmings. 

“Gee, Siobhan, lighten up,” the newsie whined with a grin. “You’ll pull out whatever you haven’t taken off already.”

“Oh, you can’t handle it?” Siobhan teased, sprouting an open-mouthed smile. She wrestled Crutchie’s head back and forth, playfully scrubbing at his scalp. The two blonds laughed loudly as he swatted her away, and Siobhan planted a kiss on Crutchie’s forehead before releasing him. Les retrieved his crutch from where it leaned against the brick of the building, and helped him out of the chair.

“Alright, Big Brother.” Siobhan wiped her hands on her apron, then shook the loose hair from it. “Your turn.” She looked up at the Jacobs boys for the first time.

“Evening, gentlemen. How does Manhattan’s finest view find you?” She spread her arms, gesturing grandly to the pale purple sky. It was a beautiful, early evening, and it felt as if the group had a little slice of the city sky all to themselves.

“Never better.” David smiled back at her.

Jack had moved to sit in the chair, one hand reaching to unbutton his collar. Siobhan didn’t hesitate, but got right to work, running an open palm unabashedly through the boy’s chocolate brown hair and seizing a small section between the flats of her index and middle fingers. The five friends chattered all the while, sentences punctuated and phrases syncopated by deft snips of the scissors.

As Siobhan was putting the finishing touches on Jack’s locks, metal creaked on the level beneath their feet.

“Siobhan,” a small voice called up. “Ma says dinner’s ready.”

“You go ahead, Eavan,” the older sister replied, scissors still working. “I’m not hungry. Could ya grab me bowl of water and a razor?”

The dark-haired girl below nodded, climbing back into the squat window set in the brick.

“What for, Siobhan?” asked Les.

“Mr. Kelly here could use a shave.” She ruffled Jack’s hair as she put the scissors away again.

“Truer words were never spoken.” Crutchie mimed scrubbing at his own face and jaw with a cheeky grin.

“Aw, cram it, I’m as smooth-faced as the next guy,” Jack protested.

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “Save it, scruffy.”

Les was sent down to retrieve the water and razor from Eavan, and Jack removed his shirt entirely, shaking it out like a rug off the edge of the fire escape, sending fine brown clippings flying every which way. David watched them turn almost red as the low sun glared off of them. A handful of the tiny trimmings peppered Jack’s white undershirt, as if a colony of ants had decided to camp out there.

“Siobhan, will you cut my hair, too?” asked Les as he handed off the shaving supplies.

The girl looked skeptical. “I don’t know how your mother would feel about that.”

“Oh, but it’s so long!” Les insisted. “And it makes my neck all sweaty. I haven’t had it cut all summer - see how long it’s gotten. Please?”

Siobhan glanced up, still unsure. “Only if your brother says it’s alright.”

Les flipped around, face set with eager longing. “Please, David? Please can I get it cut?”

The older boy hesitated, adjusting the brim of his cap. He wanted to say no so as not to add another customer to Siobhan’s barbering list, but one more look at his brother’s wide eyes tipped the scales. 

“Aw, fine. Just not too short.”

Les cheered, and David and Jack laughed, but the latter was quickly shushed as Siobhan wet his face with her hand and began to glide the razor along his jaw. The next ten minutes were filled with idle banter and frequent scolds of “Would you just hold _still_?” and “Can you go two everlovin’ minutes without talking, Jack Kelly?” and even one “Y'know, nobody’ll ask questions if they find a street rat with a slit throat layin’ in the alley tomorrow morning”. When she had finished, Siobhan took the corner of her apron and gently patted Jack’s face dry. He ran three fingers across his now-smooth cheek, and butted her arm with his forehead affectionately as she bent to dump the dirty water.

“Thanks, Ireland.” Jack grinned winningly.

She smiled as she straightened. “Anything for my favorite big brother.”


	4. Summer Excerpt II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how y'all like Part II. "Fall, 1899" to be expected next. Thanks for reading.

Les was practically in the chair before Jack was out of it, and talked non-stop as Siobhan went to work. It was his greatest disappointment that no matter how he squirmed, he couldn’t watch his own hair being cut. He smiled toothily as Siobhan's fingers shook out the trimmings from his curls, now tight to his head.

“What do you say?” David prompted as his brother leapt out of the chair, hands already playing with his new cut.

“Thank you, Siobhan!” Les grabbed her apron and gave her a light hug, earning a little smile.

“If your mother don't like it, just remember that David did it, not me.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said David warily.

Crutchie cocked his head. “Hey, there’s still a bit of light left. You should give David a trim, too, Siobhan.”

The boy in question was quick to decline. “Thanks, Crutch, but I think not.”

“Aw, c’mon, Davey,” Jack piped up in his antagonistic voice, a tone all too familiar to David's ears. “Don’t go and spoil the fun. ‘Sides, who’s gonna wanna buy a pape from a shaggy looking fella like you when they could get one from these handsome specimens?” He waved to himself and the other boys.

Siobhan's bare feet brushed uncertainly across the metal grating. "Come on, boys. If he doesn't want it cut, I won't touch it."

But David was already moving to seat himself as she finished speaking, pulling off his newscap and setting it in his lap. "No, no, Jack'll never leave me alone aboudit if I don't." He rolled his neck in preparation, a small smile on his lips in spite of himself. "Well, do your worst."

"Say no more." Siobhan gave the scissors a couple snips for effect.

David felt his fists tighten around the slender arms of the chair as Siobhan ran her hand through his curls, fingers gliding across the full surface of his scalp. She paused to reached down and around to the front of his neck, and he tensed just slightly as she unbuttoned his collar. He felt silly; he should've followed Jack's example and remembered to do it himself.

The only person who'd ever cut his hair was his father. Since David had been small, he and his father would pick a day every few months to go sit outside together. Mr. Jacobs would use his wife's thread scissors to pare down his son's unruly curls, working the dull blades patiently through each lock until David's hair sat flat and neat again. Since his father's injury, David realized, the regular haircut had fallen by the wayside.

He was jolted from his thoughts as both of Siobhan's hands dipped into his hair, tousling it rapidly. He did his best to stifle a flinch of surprise, and reminded himself that she'd done it for the other boys to shake the little bits of cut hair from their heads. Her hands slowed a bit, fingertips gently rubbing all over his scalp, creating drawn-out ruffles in his hair. It felt heavenly, and David's shoulders melted back against the chair as if without his permission. 

Siobhan was shooting back and forth with Jack and Crutchie about their favorite foods, of all things, the three laughing and teasing each other. Her hands ran distractedly through David's hair, oblivious to his closed eyes, slackened neck, and serene expression. Jack dropped off in the middle of his sentence, giving her a cheeky look as her hands continued to move.

Realizing the loose hairs were long gone, Siobhan stopped, her hands dropping from David's hairline to his shoulders. She brushed clumps of trimmed hair from the top of his shirt. David, eyes still closed, tilted his head as Siobhan drew her hand away, his cheek just barely brushing against her wrist. His eyes shot open at the sound of Jack choking on a snicker, and he remembered himself with a start.

His legs felt completely numb, and he stumbled clumsily out of the chair. Siobhan had dropped the scissors back into her apron and was brushing off her clothes, unfazed. Good. Great. Nobody but Jack had noticed him dozing off. He turned to look back at his friends, and unfortunately stood corrected; Crutchie was holding in laughter with a hand to his mouth.

“Les, can you help me with this chair?” He heard Siobhan ask.

The youngest boy leapt up from where he was cross-legged on the fire escape, one hand still playing with his hair. Siobhan folded up the old newspapers and tucked them under her arm, and the two began climbing down a level, Les talking a mile a minute. David was placing his newscap back over his head when he felt a playful jab at his ribs. He spun to find his best friends wearing cheshire grins.

“Did you see his face after she took her hands away?” Jack poked at Crutchie for emphasis. “He looked like a washed up fish gasping for air.” The boy made an obnoxious fishface, earning him a kick in the shoe.

“Stop bein’ dramatic, I was just,” David stumbled. “lost in thought.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Dave. Ya practically kissed the inside of her wrist.” He clasped his hands together behind his head, smiling at his friend’s scowl.

Crutchie shrugged his shoulders with a lopsided grin. “Aw, don’t look so bent outta shape, Mr. Jacobs. Ain’t no shame in likin’ somebody.”

David’s face hardened. “I don’t,” he stated firmly. “Not everyone has time for all the skirt-chasin’ you two do, y’know, and not to mention the other boys. Besides, what’s it to you whether I like somebody?”

“Aw, Davey.” Jack staggered, a hand to his chest. “I just don’t wantcha to die alone.” He face went more sincere as he noticed David’s lack of amusement.

“Look, Dave, Siobhan’s a sweet girl. All I’m saying is, it’s fine if you wanna, I dunno, hold her hand, or somethin’.”

“And, while I appreciate the affirmation, to that I say ‘no, thank you’,” David replied with a tone of finality as Les and Siobhan resurfaced onto the fire escape.

“‘Bout time you boys headed home, doncha think?” Siobhan cocked her head playfully.

Jack stepped toward her, rolling his eyes. “Don’t need a mother tellin’ us when to go to bed, Ireland.” They smiled in unison, and he let her pull him into a hug.

“Thanks for today, Siobhan.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “We needed it.”

She tapped her knuckles on his back affectionately, then released him. “Well, I’m goin’ to bed whether you all follow suit or not, so keep it down out here.”

The last goodbyes were called all while she walked down to the Mackeys’ tenement and until she climbed through the window one last time. Crutchie mentioned something about sleeping at the boarding house. David took his brother by the elbow to ensure his following and bid their friends farewell, beginning the long decline to the sidewalk. Les was still running a hand through his hair in a seemingly endless loop, marveling at how foreign it seemed. David touched a couple fingers to his own head thoughtfully. He hadn’t yet paused to recognize how different and refreshing the new cut felt.

“Hi, Katherine.”

He glanced up upon hearing Les’ greeting, smiling compulsively at the red-haired girl waiting to pass them on the metal stairs. 

“Evening, ma’am.” He lifted his newscap.

Katherine smiled sweetly. “Hello, boys. Nice haircuts,” she added.

Both of the brothers beamed at the mentioning.

* * *

“Thought I might find you up here.”

Jack turned over his left shoulder at the familiar voice, a grin spreading across his face as Katherine moved to stand beside him. Their stomachs leaned against the railing, the two stood in silence for a moment. Jack side-eyed his companion, admiring the way the last few beams of sunlight mingled with thick auburn hair. Katherine inhaled deeply, letting her elbows fall forward onto the metal rail.

“Careful.” Jack nudged her arm playfully. “Cigarettes and smog and piss ain’t very good for ya lungs.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious!” Jack pushed away from the edge, arms spread in theatrical earnest. “Where d’you think we are, the Wild West? Appalachia? This ain’t exactly mountain air, you know.”

“Stop,” she groaned in faked annoyance, shoving at his shoulder with a giggle. He gave a conceding shrug and slid his arms around her middle, returning his eyes to the sunset; or rather, what could be seen of it behind the tenements and corporate buildings. Jack let his chin fall into the little dip between Katherine’s neck and shoulder, and she reached over her shoulder to prod his cheekbone.

“You shaved.”

Jack scoffed at her tone. “Well, don’t sound so surprised.” He added, after a moment’s pause, “Haircut, too.”

Katherine’s hand moved from his face to his head, sliding briefly through his hair.

“Very nice.” Jack struggled not to blush at the simple compliment. “One of the boys fix it up for you?”

“Siobhan.”

Katherine sighed, and Jack’s first reaction was concern, but this was alleviated as he noticed the upturned corner of her mouth. “She’s sweet.”

“She is.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the low sun on his eyelids and Katherine’s neck on his cheek.

He loved summer.


	5. Fall, 1899

**Fall, 1899**

Jack, David, and Les were clumped together on their favorite street corner, half-empty paper slings hanging from their shoulders. Usually the three were spread out across the block to dole out papers more efficiently, but they had gathered against the cool brick wall of a civilian print shop to take a few minutes for a meager lunch and conversation.

“Leslie Jacobs. That’s a Euro name, you know.” Siobhan was there with a dinner pail in hand, which held some improvised sandwiches composed of crushed bread heels and wilted leftovers from the café near the tailor’s shop. She had brought them to split with the boys.

“Really?” Les beamed a smile that was subtly missing a baby tooth. The ten-year-old was quite proud of this trait. He grabbed at his older brother’s vest. “Hear that? I’ve gotta Euro name.”

Crutchie, having sold the last of his own papers, hobbled up while he was speaking and scoffed playfully at the boy’s statement. “Bet ya a dime ya don’t even know what that means.” He received a half-sandwich from Siobhan gratefully.

Les stuck out his tongue, then frowned, turning on the cardboard heel of his shoe to face Siobhan again. “Say, what’s that mean?”

She giggled. “Means your name’s Western European. At least, I think it is. The only other Leslie I knew was from England. It’s a cultured name for a cultured young man, very traditional,” she assured the boy with a tousle of his hair. He nodded proudly.

“Say, Siobhan,” said David with a grin. “Where’s Jack’s name from?”

The blonde didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, Big Brother’s a paddy wagonner like me. Straight out of Erin’s Isle. Jack’s a good, hardy Irish name for a good, hardy Irish boy.” She aimed a teasing smirk up at the boy. Jack rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t slip the flush in his cheeks past Crutchie, and if Crutchie noticed, then David and Siobhan might’ve, too. Just maybe. No way of telling for sure, really.

“Alrighty then, whadda ‘bout Davey here?” queried the hardy Irish boy. Siobhan sighed with a small smile, tilting her head back and letting her eyes wander the crisscrossing of rusty fire escapes. 

“You all heard Katherine when she was writing that article of hers a couple months ago, what she said about all the little Davids challenging the Goliath.” She reached up her hand as if to stretch for the distant fire escape, but her nimble fingers plucked David’s newscap from his tastefully-combed curls instead. He fumbled to grab it back, but she snatched it away with a cheeky smile, placing it gingerly atop the tightly-wound bun that had replaced her braided pigtails since she’d begun working. She continued, “That’s the best kinda name your brother’s got, Les, it’s from the Bible itself. Know who the biblical David was?”

Les pondered a moment, opened his mouth eagerly as if to reply, then frowned and shook his head. The other boys guffawed to themselves at the confident yet meek little one. Siobhan smiled, leaning her jaw on her palm and her elbow on her knee so that she was eye-level with him. 

“David was the youngest son of Jesse,” she explained. “He wasn’t as tall or strong as his brothers; he was no fighter, he was a shepherd, gentle but firm. But even though he didn’t look like much of a warrior, God chose him as His champion. David took down Goliath the giant all on his own, not with a sword, not with a big suit of armor, but a sling and a rock. He won because he had faith in God, and for that, God made him king in place of Saul, and the people rejoiced.” 

Siobhan’s wide smile as she told the story was infectious, and had spread to Les’ bright face as well. Crutchie chuckled. 

“Aw, you sound like Sister Mary Benedicta, with all your scripture ‘n sermons.”

“High praise, she always tells the Old Testament the best,” the girl countered, smoothly spinning off of the overturned crate on which she had made her seat and away from David’s hand, which had attempted to reclaim his cap and futilely snatched at thin air instead. He spluttered as the girl replaced the hat on his head, pulling the neatly patched brim down over his eyes. The newsboys snorted in syncopation.

“Hay, looks like Miss Erin’s Isle got Davey all flustered,” Jack noted with an antagonistic grin. The victim adjusted his vest with a tug of the hem and slid the brim of his newscap out of his eyes.

“We’ll see how well you hold onna your hat when Katherine gets here to buy her pape.”

“Speak of an angel.” Siobhan waved amiably to the familiar auburn-haired young lady who had just turned the corner down the street.

“You can say that again,” Jack agreed, half under his breath, already jogging down the sidewalk to greet his belle with a glowing ‘good afternoon’. Siobhan maintained her contented grin, having reclaimed her perch on the crate and drawn Les up beside her. David shook his head.

“You’re just all smiles today, aren’t you?”

“So’s long as there’s something to smile about, and there always is in good ol’ NY, is how come I’m always smilin’.” David and Crutchie laughed at her dramatized imitation of the newsboys’ New Yorker accents. In all fairness, her own way of speaking was quite odd itself, being a blend of city slur and Gaelic brogue.

“How’s is things at Miss Martin’s?” asked Crutchie. Siobhan had found an apprenticeship tailoring in the business district on account of her being good with a needle and thread.

“Slow for now, but school’s starting up again since summer’s finally over, so I’m sure I’ll be pleating plenty of skirts and slacks in no time.” She rapped her knuckles on the pail at her side. “‘Sides, means I can make sandwiches outta the café scraps for my siblings and you boys.”

“Your dad must be pretty happy with the tailoring salary,” David pointed out.

“Yeah.” Siobhan drew her wrist across her forehead to siphon off a few beads of sweat from the afternoon sun. Les sold a paper to a passing gentleman. 

“We’re well-off, but not enough to get out of the tenement. Though it’s not so crowded when it’s only me, my parents, and Eavan and Jamie. Most other families are eight to a room.” She paused a moment, then slid her hands over Les’ ears, leaning towards the two older boys to mutter, “Sounds awful, but we’re sorta lucky that my ma miscarried the last; I don’t think Pa and I could make enough to send another one to school.”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Les asked loudly, shaking his head to remove Siobhan’s hands. 

“Nothing, Les.” David made a sort of somber face. He found it strange that Siobhan could talk about sad things as if they weren’t all that sad. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if his own mother were to miscarry or stillbear.

“Jack’ll tell me. Won’t you, Jack?” The one in question had strode up along with Katherine in time to catch Siobhan’s statement. The older boy easily detoured the conversation.

“Boring adult stuff ya dad’s always reading about in the papes.” He made a distracting gesture. “Hey, why dontcha take your bag across the street, there’s a bunch of folks coming outta the restaurant from lunch who could use some daily news.”

Crutchie left to head back home after saying hello to Katherine. Siobhan offered her the last sandwich, which she politely declined.

“I’m so sorry to hear that about your mother, Siobhan.” Katherine nodded her head solemnly. The other shrugged, putting on a positive smile. David noticed the corner of her lips twinge with a subtle sadness.

“Not like it can be helped. This ain’t the first time, but hopefully she’s old enough that it’ll be the last. You an’ I will deal with the same stuff down the road, more likely than not. Best to cry our tears now.” 

Jack's face hardened, his fingers tightening around Katherine's. David realized with a start that his own face looked much the same; an image of Siobhan slumped on the floor of a dark room with a dark stain down the front of her skirt had flashed behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut. Siobhan seemed to recognize the need for a change in topic. 

“Heya, speaking of parents, how’s your pa’s leg, David?”

The young man handed off a paper to a middle-aged woman as she rounded the corner, dropping the nickel into his trouser pocket. He rolled his neck, earning a few pops, and shrugged in reply.

“It’s better, but still stiff, don’t know if it’ll ever heal fully. He can’t go back to the same job, but he might be able to find clerking work at the bank, since he did some schooling with numbers before he married my mother. Either way, Les is going back to school next week.”

“And what about you?” Jack finished off the last bite of his sandwich by stuffing it unceremoniously into his maw.

David fiddled with the strap of his bag. “Well, we still need the money from papers. I’m staying.” His family were a bit better off than the rest, since they could afford an apartment and decent food and clothes. But there still wasn’t much left over, and every week was a stretch. “‘Sides, I finished most of primary school already.”

Katherine shook her head disappointedly. “That is so unfair. You deserve to be getting an education, too.”

Siobhan blew a stray tuft of hair out of her eyes. “That’s just how it goes. We stay outta school so the little ones can stay in. I was lucky enough to be able to work ahead and wrap up primary before I had to leave for the tailor.” She picked up her dinner pail. “Which reminds me, should be gettin’ back now. Lucky enough that Miss Martin gives me time for lunch at all. See you boys around.” She tipped her head at Katherine with a winning grin. “M’lady.”

And with that farewell, she set off down the sidewalk, running her fingers absently through the wisps of blonde around her ears that had fallen out of her bun. The other three waved as she turned the corner. Les ran up from across the street, having unloaded another half-dozen papers from his bag.

“Siobhan left already?” He huffed for breath from his jog, taking over the now-empty crate seat.

“We all got places to be an’ people to see, ain’t we?” mused Jack, placing his hand over the boy’s brown curls.


End file.
